Spring Portraits
by acting-fangirl
Summary: Although London has always been their city, Mary and Bert have a certain attachment to Paris - and this attachment are spring portraits.


**I saw the 1965 film "The Art of Love" for the first time a few days ago and was directly inspired for a Mary Poppins oneshot! A****nd guess who's just back from Paris**

**Here we go :D**

* * *

Mary and Bert had been friends for many years and knew each other better than anyone else. After leaving the Banks family, the wind brought her to France. To be precise: to Paris.

Without knowing this, Bert decided to collect impressions in this city and work there for a short time as an artist. This idea came from none other than Mary Poppins, as she had been to Paris many times and knew the incredible talent of her best friend.

On a beautiful, sunny day in spring, he sat down in a street in Montmartre and started to paint. His choice fell on the Sacré-Cœur basilica, which shaped the image of the city. Lively, he let his brush slide across the canvas and brought colourful oil paint on the white surface.

So he stayed a few hours until he drew the last point and put the utensils aside. Satisfied, he examined his latest work of art when a voice, more beautiful than any song, made him look up: "Can one buy this masterpiece of yours, good sir?"

"Mary!?" He jumped up and wanted to give her a friendly hug, but stopped at the last moment, because he did not want to soil her clothes. "What are ya doin' 'ere?"

"I work here... But since today is my free Tuesday, I wanted to take a little walk."

As she spoke, Bert noticed what a beautiful picture he saw: Mary's hair was, as always, neatly pinned up, her blouse was white with a slight stitch of pink and the skirt and jacket dark blue. All this was perfect for the background: the sky was blue and covered with light cloud clouds, the cherry trees were blooming, and the picturesque city gave the sight of ultimate perfection. He crouched down and looked at everything from a new perspective and found it even more beautiful! So he set up his chair next to Mary: "Sit down, please."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I want t' paint ya."

Frowning, the nanny sat down and looked skeptically at her friend. He was putting a new canvas on the easel - his eyes sparkled, but Mary could not make out the exact emotions in it. Despite the skepticism, part of her was flattered that he portrayed her.

"What should I do?"

"Just keep calm and sit straight and don't look so serious" He winked and dipped the brush in the paint.

With a critical eye, he examined her and wasn't completely satisfied - after all, the picture should be perfect!

"Could ya maybe raise your chin? Yea', perfect! And now look a bit more in me direction." As soon as everything was as he wanted it to be, he started to paint.

The fact that he studied her with his blue eyes gave her goosebumps- but not unpleasant ones!

Although Mary was a respectable woman, there was a tiny spark of curiosity deep inside her that made her try to catch a glimpse of the painting. But Bert, who knew and loved this trait, admonished her and had to smile. "Don't move."

However, Mary's posture had changed as a result of the movement, which is why the artist was moving toward her and wanted to align her chin. However, he stopped at the last moment: "May I?" She nodded and held her breath for a moment, as he took her chin in his warm hand and then approached her with his face. Concentrated, he studied her eyes and memorised every detail.

As if hypnotised, she looked into his beautiful eyes and literally sank in this ocean of different shades of dark blue. The two of them were so close that they could feel each other's breath and their noses slightly bumped against each other.

"Did I already tell ya that ya 'ave stunning eyes? The spectrum of blue is incredible! You can literally read in them!" He waited a moment before returning to his painting.

Shortly Mary had to swallow, but she recovered quickly and put on her usual unfathomable mask: "I think you mentioned it before. But thank you."

During the time they sat there, passers-by stopped and watched Bert at work. Mary knew that many art lovers were walking along, but it seemed to her that they stayed longer with Bert than with anyone else. The admiring glances that wandered between Mary and the painting also left her eagerly awaiting the final result.

When the picture was finished after a while, Bert dropped the brush and looked with his typical smile alternately from Mary to her portrait.

"May I see it too?"

In response, he took the picture and turned it over to Mary, who caught her breath. The painting was mainly done in bright and friendly colours. The background showed the real environment with beautiful weather, beautiful flowers and the architecture. But what made her completely speechless was her portrait: she wore the same clothes as she did now and looked at the observers gracefully, but also in a friendly way. But what put everything in the shade were her eyes! It seemed like they were pursuing you and oh how detailed they were painted!

"Bert, that's incredible!"

It was not long before a gentleman stopped and turned to Bert, "Can I acquire this painting?"

"I'm sorry, but the picture isn't for sale" And with these words and a sweet smile, he handed it to Mary Poppins.

* * *

Almost exactly a year later, the two friends met again in Paris, because Bert had decided to spend the spring a wonderful Tuesday in April, they did something together at lunchtime before returning to the artist's small apartment in the evening. They laughed a lot, ate and drank French again, Mary realised how much she enjoyed spending time with him, and within the last year, she also realised that she felt more than friendship for Bert - she had romantic feelings for him. When she was traveling with Bert, she could drop her otherwise austere façade and just be the Mary she the late evening it started to rain and storm, which is why Mary could not return to her current family. By that time, the two had reached a point where they silently followed their thoughts. However, it was not an uncomfortable silence - on the contrary!While Mary sat at the window and watched the weather, Bert read a good book.

A lightning and the ensuing thunder made Mary wince, which, of course, did not go unnoticed by Bert. He knew she secretly had some sort of fear of thunderstorms - but he did not know the cause. Then an idea came to him: "Do ya remember when I painted ya last year?"

"How could I forget that?" She blushed slightly. She always had the picture in her carpetbag. If she had a permanent residence, it would probably be hanging in her living room.

Without saying a word, Bert got up, picked up his utensils, and parked everything next to Mary.

"What is the?"

"I think it's time for a new portrait." He began to pick the right colours- for Mary it seemed as they were mostly dark.

"Really?"

"Err...", he examined the colour on his finger and smeared it on Mary's nose tip, "yes."

"Bert!" She tried to stay serious as she cleaned her nose, but could not hide the slight smile. "What do I have to do?"

"Just look at me." She did as she was told, and he began to paint.

Mary, like the year before, had lost all sense of time and did not know how long she had stayed like this. She found it unbelievably reassuring how quiet and concentrated Bert drew and how his eyes kept wandering between the image and her. But when a renewed and especially violent thunder literally shook the apartment, she winced again. Of course the artist noticed that and he leaned over to see her eyes better.

"What are you doing?" Mary asked, not moving a millimetre.

"I read in ya eyes."

"And? What do you see?"

"The fear" As soon as he had pronounced it, Mary instantly stiffened and lowered her head slightly, but when he reached out his hand, grabbed her chin and lifted it, she immediately relaxed.

"It's all right, Mary," he said, while bringing his face slightly close to hers, "everyone's scared."

She came closer to him: "How do you expect me to be scared?"

"I can read it in ya eyes. Besides... I know you."

"Oh, really?" Their noses were now touching. It was like the year before, only that this time Bert did not go straight back to the picture, but stayed that way. The otherwise so composed Nanny could not resist the urge, so her gaze wandered to his lips and lingered there for a moment before she looked deep into his eyes again. Her emotions literally blazed. She had to swallow, her pulse went up abruptly.

"Yes…"

"What else can you read?" She tilted her head slightly, hoping he would understand.

"This." In the next moment his lips were on hers and she immediately closed her eyes. A firework of feelings was kindled in her and she instinctively brought one hand to his neck and the other to the back of his head to intensify the kiss. His hands, in turn, found their place at her waist, and at that moment she did not care if her clothes were soiled with paint. It seemed her lips would fit together perfectly as they caressed each other. Mary did not know until then how much she had longed for Bert's closeness and especially for the kiss! But another thunder made the nanny wince unconsciously, which is why Bert broke the kiss and pressed her head to his chest. Calmingly, he stroked her side and said in a gentle voice: "Don't be afraid, Mary... You're not alone... I'm 'ere."

She looked at him and found no words for the first time in her life. The kiss left her speechless and the thunder reminded her of the day _he_ was almost struck by lightning. At that thought, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest again.

It had been a day about three years ago when she had watched him from the window of her then family sweeping a chimney on the opposite house. There had been an uncomfortable storm that day and it had been thundering heavily. But Bert did not want to miss working anyway. So he had stood and worked on the roof when a few yards from him a lightning bolt hit. Mary had previously had great respect for lightnings, but when her best friend was nearly killed by one, that respect developed into fear. She had always been mystified why she was so scared, but he was not. And now she realised: she already loved him then. At the thought that one day he would not be here, an unpleasant shiver ran down her spine. Overwhelmed by her feelings, she pressed even closer to him and muttered: "I love you."

At these words, Bert petrified for a moment before looking at her with a loving smile. He kissed the top of her head: "I love you too."

The portrait he painted that evening showed a glowing Mary. She was wearing a dress that released one shoulder and she smiled slightly. The woman in the painting looked graceful and strong, but at the same time it showed worried eyes. In the background was a dark Paris in the thunderstorm.

* * *

Two years later, the newlywed couple Alfred spent their honeymoon in Paris. They stayed in an attic apartment with a view of Montmartre, which brought Bert to an idea: "'ow about a new painting?"

"With pleasure," she looked at him with a teuflisch smile, because she had a plan.

"Then wait here, Mrs. _Alfred_, I'll be right back."

When Bert arrived at the apartment after about fifteen minutes, the utensils almost fell out of his hand: in front of him sat Mary - completely naked. Not that he objected to the sight, on the contrary, but he was puzzled: "What are you doin'?"

"You said that you have never painted a nude painting. And since I wear less on every picture of you and it's our honeymoon, I thought it would be a good opportunity. "

"Oh yes!" He smiled dirty, prepared everything and began to paint.

As always, when he painted her eyes, he came closer to her and took her chin in his hand. Of course, he knew the colours and gradients by heart for a long time, but he just could not resist it.

"And? What do you see this time?"

"Should I tell or show you?"

"Mhmm...", she averted her eyes for a moment and acted as if she had to think before she gave him a meaningful look, "show me."

"All right." With these words, he picked her up and carried her to bed.

The finished picture showed Mary with a seductive look in front of Paris, bathed in a dark red sunset. Of course, Bert did not want to portray his wife completely exposed, so he had given her a big red blanket. He called it: artistic freedom.

* * *

Fourteen months later, Mary and Bert went on vacation in Paris. Like before, the artist wanted to make a painting. But this time it was the first on which he painted two people: Because their five-month-old son Peter was also there and of course had to be portrayed. Without saying a word, he unpacked his easel and adjusted his painting utensils.

"Another painting?" Mary asked, who was breast-feeding Peter.

"Of course! I 'ave to capture our first holiday together as a family some'ow."

Not without rolling her eyes, the nanny buttoned up her blouse sat down on the small balcony, which was contained in their current accommodation.

Fortunately, Peter slept in Mary's arms almost all the time, which is why Bert was able to make his newest piece of art in peace. When the young man, whom they always called their _little star_, woke up, it could not have been more appropriate, because his father had just reached the point where he painted his eyes. Lovingly, he approached his son, who looked exactly like him, and studied him.

"'e 'as ya eyes, Mary."

"And the rest of you," she replied, as her husband, who took this without comment, again led the brush over the canvas.

After a few minutes, he came closer to the two, but now took Mary's chin in the hand.

"What do you see this time?"

"The beautiful, happy eyes of a wonderful mother and wife."

When Mary saw the finished painting, it caught her breath. It was by far the best picture Bert had ever made! The background, as usual, was the blooming Montmartre in spring, but she also recognised small, hidden messages in it. For example, an umbrella that flew through the veil clouds, a chimney sweep on a rooftop, a reference to London and, and, and. Since he had painted Paris at dusk, the first stars were already sparkling in the sky (she was sure that they should in some way represent their son), but what impressed her most was herself and Peter. Both glowed and seemed as tangible as if they could spring from the picture at any moment. Mary's image showed her happily looking at her son and looking completely relaxed. Peter, on the other hand, looked directly at the viewer and smiled warmly. And for the first time, but quite inconspicuously, Bert had put his signature in the corner. The painting represented everything that was important to Mary.

And at that moment she was sure: Paris in spring was the best thing that could ever happen to her!

* * *

**I hope you liked this little story :) Do you want something like that more often? (I have a couple more ideas)**

**I would be very happy if you leave a review :)**


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